You Fuckin' Stoner
by sugardemonxo
Summary: Axel is finding boys more attractive lately, Roxas is finding debauchery more attractive lately, and Demyx doesn't know what day it is. AkuRoku. Marijuana smoking, underage drinking, teen angst & recklessness, important life questions, and future fluff. Rated for drugs and language. Rebooted from my old account.


I've spent hour after hour in this hell, listening to the droning hum of people talking to and over each other about things that don't really matter. I pressed some buttons on the register, slowly counted out each bill and coin to make sure my math was right, passed off the change to the person it rightfully belonged to; rinse and repeat.

My eyes burned and my mouth was dry and my feet wanted to move. When my lunch break finally rolled around, it was a welcomed change in pace. I got myself a Mountain Dew on employee discount and scooted my Converse across black and purple tiles, to concrete, to asphalt, until eventually, I was in my car.

It was humid, smothering me and my skin as I felt a light glaze of sweat already coating the nape of my neck. I took a swig of my drink, catching a piece of ice to chew before setting my cup on the dashboard for lack of an empty cup holder. I opened the glove box and dug around for my eye drops, leaning my seat back a bit to put them in.

"Fuckin' car," I muttered under my breath. The thing is a sardine can and I'm six feet tall. It's just not the most comfortable combo, if you can imagine. I cleared a cup holder for my drink, brought my seat forward, and put the keys in the ignition, taking off to spend lunch in good company.

* * *

"Axel!" Demyx shouted in a drawn out, dreamy voice when I opened the creaky screen door. "Glad you could make it, man." I made my way into the general area of him and Riku – who was in the middle of his turn on Guitar Hero – and planted myself in my usual spot on the couch. The room was already full of smoke and the smell of weed.

"Man, I hate Taco Bell," I whined, gesturing for the glass pipe resting in Dem's hand.

"Work somewhere else," he suggested, handing me the object of my desires. I took a long hit, holding it in my lungs for as long as I could before releasing what smoke was left and a shallow cough with it.

"Where else is there?" I asked between sips of my drink. Riku finished his turn, passing the guitar controller to Demyx.

"What's up man?" He asked as if he'd just been notice my presence. Demyx sat, controller in hand, naming off places I'd either already been fired or rejected from.

"Nah, man," I paused to take a hit, "It's cool, as long as I'm gettin' paid I can't bitch," I said, expelling the smoke I'd been holding in my lungs.

I decided to hang out for a few more minutes, gradually sipping my drink and idly talking to the guys while they played, before I had to start getting back to work so they wouldn't dock my time. We exchanged variations of goodbye, 'Later dude,' 'Peace, man,' 'See ya, bro,' before I shuffled back to my car and subsequently back to work.

The rest of the workday passed uneventfully, if not a bit more amusingly since I smoked. A few pretty girls came in, giggling and flirting and looking at me like I'm just the handsomest guy. I am, for the record. A couple former band mates passed through my line, talking about gigs and finances and other band stuff they generally knew nothing about.

There were some ex-friends turned addict who had obviously just woken up, chatting, making small talk, acting so excited to see me. There were passive aggressive soccer moms and people who were angry that they had to wait for their food, there were businessmen and women who looked way out of place in Taco Bell.

And there was Selphie, ex-hookup turned stalker. I almost wish I was one of those guys who made girls sound crazy to validate my own feelings. I wish I was saying she was a stalker because she sent me too many texts a day. The thing of it is, I'm not that guy.

This whole thing started when we graduated as seniors. There was a party, people got drunk, did things they'd regret. None so much as me, though. I just haven't been able to file a restraining order yet, honestly. And we'll just assume her stalking methods have led her to knowledge of the fact that I had planned on getting one, because she's been on her best behavior for months. I was polite, because that's literally my job. She didn't even have a conversation with me, just ordered her food and stared at me when she thought I didn't notice. And as creepy as that is, there's absolutely nothing I coulda done anyway.

The last customer of my shift was this blond kid who wasn't even a customer. He was kinda good looking, if you're into that whole golden haired, blue eyed, bronzed skin mini-Adonis thing. I remember feeling self-conscious and hoping I didn't smell bad, but I work at Taco Bell so smelling bad is kind of my job description. Anyway, he'd just moved here (out of some ancient Greek painting, probably) and wasn't familiar with town and was asking which exit would take him to… some place. I already forgot. I gave him some brief directions with a bad napkin drawing and hoped I sent him on the right way, because I bullshitted the directions I gave him the whole time they were coming out of my mouth. I wiped down the counters and refreshed my drink as the next guy took over, before heading back to Riku's place.

* * *

"You guys are _still_ playing Guitar Hero?" I grumbled upon entry into the house.

"It's a different version!" Demyx screeched from down the hall while I dug through Riku's mess of a dresser for a shirt that would fit me.

"It's still the same exact thing!" I shouted back, and somehow that shut him up. Giving up on the quest for a shirt that would actually be comfortable, I decided any shirt was better than my work shirt and pulled on a frayed, faded black shirt. It showed some of my stomach, but it felt too nice not wearing my uniform for me to care.

"You look so heterosexual right now," Riku snorted at me as I entered the living room and, once again, took my place on the couch, sprawling out and slumping into the seat this time.

"You know, that'd be really cutting, ifI _were_ a heterosexual man with a fragile sense of masculinity," I smirked around the lip of my cup.

"Speaking of all those words you just said," Demyx interjected, "You wanna take my gay little cousin out sometime?"

I scoffed and sat in silence for a second before I looked at him and realized he was serious. " _Your_ cousin? No. Literally _anyone else's_ cousin? Sure," I said smirking, but not completely joking. Dem's cool but I dunno that I could handle more than one of him.

"Come _on_ , man! He's new in town. We don't get along, like, at all, or I'd just show him around myself. And you're the only not completely straight person I know who hasn't said no," Demyx trailed off like he hadn't actually meant to say that part. Riku was mostly silent besides cussing under his breath when he missed a note.

"I literally just said no," I raised an eyebrow at him, more amused than anything, while taking a hit off the bong that, at some point, began circulating. "Besides," I started with lungs full of smoke, breathing out before continuing, "If he's new here _and_ you're not close, then how's he gonna feel about you setting him up with your _bi stoner friend_ , exactly?" I reached the bong out to Riku for a solid few seconds before I got tired of waiting for him to pause the game and set it down near him.

"About that," started Demyx in a cautious singsong tone, staring a hole through the back of Riku's head like he was trying to will him to take a hit and pass it, "I _kinda, sorta_ already talked to him. And told him you were gay. And a good guy on the straight and narrow. And that I don't even know you personally." I threw my head back and roared a laugh for a second, and he laughed too, a nervous laugh, like maybe he wasn't actually telling a funny joke, and I stopped laughing.

"You didn't actually do that, did you?" I deadpanned. He looked at me with a tight, uncomfortable smile, laughing, again, nervously. "No... Nah, man. Because that'd be… like… bad, if I did that, right?"

Oh my god.

"Demyx, no," feeling my ears burn and my eyes go as wide as they could in my current state. I felt okay. I could feel my pulse everywhere, and it was making me uncomfortable, and Dem was tripping me out, but I was starting to feel good and floaty. I started thinking about it, and out of nowhere, I started laughing. A giggle at first, then it transformed into something greater… a fit, of sorts.

"You are such a terrible person," I said between laughs. And then Demyx started laughing and nodding his head.

"Dude… I know," he snorted. Riku had been zoned out for so long that at that point all he had was a contact high. He heard the commotion and paused, turning to look at us and noticing the bong, setting it back up to go again.

"You guys are so stoned," he smirked. Riku was too damn stoic, it was creepy. The thought made me laugh more, and I looked at Demyx and he was still laughing, but his face was red now and he had tears running down his face and I just couldn't handle that.

"We're fucking _fried_ , dude," I choked out between laughs. I laughed until I started coughing, then I tried to steady my breathing and calm the fuck down 'cause I realized it'd been about 5 minutes now, even though it felt longer, and I was starting to feel like I might pass out if I didn't stop soon.

Finally, we calmed down enough for Demyx to take his turn on the game, and I chatted idly with Riku for a bit. When Demyx finished, I tried to play a song but I got booed off the stage. Whatever, it's a dumb game anyway. After a couple more tries (and a couple more failures), I passed the guitar to Demyx, and then he and Riku got into it about whose turn it was, and I went to scrape the day's layer of grease off in Riku's shower. I pulled the elastic holding my hair out, hissing as I pulled a few hairs out with it.

I turned the shower knob almost all the way to the hottest setting, ruffling my hair to loosen it where it'd been held together all day, then stripped down and stepped into the stream of water. I just stood for a minute, letting my skin adjust to the temperature and feeling the tension in my neck and upper back melt away, before finding the nearest shampoo bottle and squeezing probably too much into my palm. I scrubbed my hair viciously, closing my eyes as lather ran down into my face, determined to strip every last bit of grease from it. I turned to face the showerhead, rinsing the suds from my face and rubbing at my eyes just to be sure.

I turned again to let the water hit the back of my head, massaging my scalp to coax all the soap out of my hair. The water was running slightly pink with dye from my hair. I didn't even care. I rubbed a bar of soap into a rag, starting at my face, then scrubbing down the rest of my body. My mind wandered to the mini-Adonis from before, unleashing a heat in my body. I discarded the now filthy rag and quickly turned the water to the coldest setting. It was a shock to my system, making me feel different things. I angled my face so the water would hit it, feeling awake for the first time in hours, and finally turned the water off.

I climbed out of the shower and lazily toweled myself off, realizing I hadn't brought any clean clothes with me and sighing to myself. I decided to just go commando in my black work pants and put Riku's shirt back on. I put the damp towel in my hair, grabbing and rubbing with my hands in an attempt to better dry myself. All it really accomplished was tangling my hair, so I gave up and slicked it back into a bun to keep it off my neck while it dried.

I tossed my towel in a rundown bin in the corner of the room, rounded up my boxers and work shirt and put them in the backseat of my car before heading back into the apartment and onto the couch once more. By the time I made it to my seat, I was still feeling high but comfortably so. I fished my long forgotten phone out of my pocket, checking the time and my messages.

One text from Reno, asking if I wanted anything from the store when he went 2 hours ago. Oops. One from Larxene, offering me money to do her homework for her. There was one more text from a number I didn't know that said "who is this?" and it kinda rubbed me the wrong way because _they_ texted _me_. I replied to every text with as few words as possible and set my phone on the coffee table in front of me.

Demyx and Riku were having a heated debate about snack foods while an episode of Regular Show played in the background. It was only about 4:30, but it felt a lot later to me. I listened to them argue for a while, occasionally tuning them out to listen to the TV, before getting up to scavenge in the kitchen. I found a lot of beer, stale cereal, a frozen pizza, and not much else.

I dug around in my pockets, looking for the $20 I'd grabbed this morning for lunch money. I found it and some change in my back right pocket. Making a small note to remember which pocket it was in, I slid it all back into my pocket, and made my way back into the living room. I found my phone and keys, by some small miracle, in the mess that was the coffee table and interrupted Riku in the middle of his lesson on the perfect snack to say bye, even though I was pretty sure they'd already forgotten I was there.

* * *

I slid the key into the ignition with one hand and pulled the driver's side door closed with the other. As I turned the key and the sardine can roared back to life, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I dug it out of my pocket, raising myself at an awkward angle to reach it. I got a text back from the weird number, some kid saying something about a wrong number. I tossed the phone into the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition, driving to the shabby grocery store around the corner from my place.

I walked through decrepit sliding doors that screeched in protest as they slid along their dirty tracks. Some of the long fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling flickered, corpses of flies barely visible through their yellowed plastic covers. There was an old woman with dishwater gray hair slicked back into a long ponytail at the only open register. At 5:15pm, the store was deserted. I almost got a cart, but reconsidered the money I had to spend and opted for a small basket. I made a beeline for the produce, picking up a few fresh lemons and some random greens. I weaved through the empty aisles, trying not to let the flickering lights drive me insane, picking up a few more small necessities.

I made my way lazily to the woman at the register, setting my basket on the conveyor. She was very friendly, but her voice was like gravel in my ears and she smelled like dogs and tobacco. My total ran just 3 cents below the amount I had in my pocket. I let out a breath I hadn't noticed I was holding in and handed over exact change, tossing my three pennies into the small donation box taped to the register as she handed me my receipt. I grabbed two half-empty bags while she put my basket away behind the counter, soon making my way back through the creaky doors. I could tell it was almost 6 by the way the colors in the sky were changing and how just a few of the streetlights in the lot were softly glowing now. I tossed my groceries into the backseat of my old, ugly silver sedan.

The drive home was short and quiet, filled with a softly crackling rock song and the sound of my brakes. The sky generally stays bright until 9 in the summer, but streetlights were coming on anyway, just like they always did, as I put my car in a spot in the small parking lot by my building. It was technically Reno's place but he was always either at work or his girlfriend's, so I generally lived alone. It was a nice condo but it was developed in an area with no growth. Everything around it was old and falling down and property values were pretty low. We split most payments and I came out pretty broke a lot of the time, but that was my fault for not picking up more hours at work.

I turned the key in the knob, flicking the switch on my immediate right when I walked in, illuminating the hallway that stretched in front of me. Every other room was dark. I palmed my keys and closed the door behind me with my foot before walking toward the kitchen. I reached the end of the hall, turning left and fumbling for the switch with the hand my keys were in. Successfully turning the light on felt like a pretty big accomplishment. I set my bags down on the counter, emptying the contents one by one into the fridge. Reno already bought groceries and the fridge was stocked, but his knowledge of food rendered spices and herbs "too fancy" because he didn't actually know how to season, so I always had to make an independent run to pick some up.

After everything was in its place, I grabbed a beer and a pack of chicken breasts, hunting for the cutting board. I leaned against the counter drinking my beer while I decided what to do with the chicken. I set my beer down, turning on a stove eye and tossing a pan on it, adding just a bit of olive oil. I grabbed a lemon and some parsley from the fridge. I got one piece of chicken and squeezed half of the lemon over it. While the pan was getting hot, I crossed the hallway to my closed bedroom door, flicking on my light and hurriedly changing into comfortable clothes and actual boxers. I checked the wallet on my dresser, counting $79 dollars, before rushing back into the kitchen. The oil in the pan was sizzling, I grabbed the cutting board and settled my chicken into the pan, seasoning it just a little with salt, pepper, paprika, and chopping some fresh parsley for later.

I finished my beer while I waited to turn the chicken. I took a small stroll around the house, opening curtains to let the last of the sunshine in, turning on lamps in rooms that were still too dark. I turned on the TV in the living room for background noise before returning to the kitchen. I fished a fork out of the silverware drawer, impaling the chicken and flipping it. I grabbed another beer, taking a sip before squeezing the other half of the forgotten lemon onto the chicken in the pan. The oil spluttered and bubbled in protest before calming back down. I scraped all of the chopped parsley off of the cutting board and into the pan, discarding the dirty board and knife in the kitchen sink.

When my chicken was finished, I turned the eye off and used the same fork from before to pick it up and put it on a plate, grabbing a knife and my beer and deciding to settle in the living room where the TV was already on. I set my plate on the coffee table in front of the couch and searched for the remote, surfing every channel when I found it, and settling for the least boring thing. I felt around the pockets of my sweat pants for my phone, remembering I left it in my work pants. I got up briefly to retrieve it.

Once I was in my room, I took my still damp hair down and tore a brush through my tangled red strands. It hurt like a bitch. After my hair was brushed, I dug in the pocket of my pants for my cell, tossing the pants in my hamper after I found it. Temporarily discarding the phone into my pocket, I picked up all of the week's forgotten laundry and put it in the hamper, making a mental note to do laundry this weekend.

I made my way back to my food, phone in hand, checking the few texts I'd received. There was another from the weird number, so I decide to start there. I started to get mad, before realizing there was an attached video and losing out to my own curiosity. At the beginning of the video, there was the pressing of buttons and the shuffling of the phone it was being made on. For a second all I could see was the ground, there were sounds of general debauchery in the background when the camera lifted to find figures of people. "Roxas!" The camera focused on a boy.

I thought it might be the mini-Adonis from earlier, but decided my eyes were playing tricks on me. The person with the phone got closer to the boy, and it _was_ the mini-Adonis. The flash was bright on his face and there was a fire to the right of him and now there was an unexpected shimmer of silver hanging from his nose. He raised his hand to protect his eyes from the light, but he was smiling and it was breathtaking.

"How does it feel to be 20?" the person behind the camera was asking. Roxas, which was apparently the kid's name, turned to look at someone behind him, then looked back. He was really disheveled and his face was pink and I noticed the lip of an alcohol bottle dangling in his hand at the edge of the frame. He continued smiling, obviously trying to put together words, before replying simply with "Different," and crinkling his nose. He grabbed at the phone in the person's hands and then he was gone and the video stopped.

I sat for a second, just looking at the phone in my hand, trying to make sense of why this video was in my inbox and what I should do with it. I watched it again. Then again. And one last time. Perturbed, I reached for my now warm beer, looking around the room at my now obviously boring night. I took a sip. And then another sip. I drank the rest of the beer and then half of another before I was brave enough to decide to reply. I was going to say something snarky, or clever, or find out why that video was sent to me, but I was trying to understand why this boy, who was technically a man I guess, was so attractive to me. Or why he kept interrupting my day. Where did he come from? Why did I care? I gave up on getting out of my own head for long enough to be clever, and settled for "happy birthday."

I chugged the rest of my beer and my head was starting to swim, and I didn't even care about the other texts in my inbox or the TV that seemed louder than before. I took a small bite of cold chicken while I watched the video for a fifth time.

* * *

 **a/n: So finally I've updated! The cooking scene seemed tedious while I was writing it but for some reason it is very important to me that you know my headcanon includes Axel being a culinary badass. I hope you like it, lovelies! As usual, thanks for reading, any reviews or favs, and other general awesomeness.~ And a BIG shout-out to Kunoichi21 for editing for me, because I'm a toddler who can't do it myself.**


End file.
